Differences and Similarities

On Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of last week, I attended the Autism Society conference which was held here in New Orleans.  While I learned quite a bit, earned continuing education units, and enjoyed the conference, there were moments when I was aware that I am working in a very different environment than the other professionals attending.  One speaker mentioned how before 1975, when the law was changed, there were children with autism and other disabilities that were not allowed to go to school; only after whispering to my friend that it is still like that in Haiti, did I feel a wave of sadness for children whose disabilities cause them to be excluded from having their educational needs met.  During a session I attended the presenter told us which services a child would be able to receive even if nothing else were available; of course, she was assuming (and accurately for all attendees other than me), that we were working in the United States of America.  The services she described are not a right and are rarely provided to children living in poverty in Haiti.  I chose to attend one breakout session focusing on preschool children, thinking this could h help me to advocate for a child at the orphanage who seems to have some symptoms of mild autism and also thinking that if I continue to provide support and consultation to the preschool children in Pilat they could at some point have a child  who has Autism traits.  The special educator and speech therapist who presented seemed so committed and had great strategies for working with preschool aged children who are on the Autism spectrum .  They also described classrooms with only 12 children of which no more than four have a diagnosed disability, and where there are a variety of adults collaborating in the classroom including special and regular education teachers, multiple teachers' aides, speech therapist, and once a week an occupational therapist.   While I was impressed by the work that they do, I wondered how would anyone even try to implement their strategies in a Haitian kindergarten classroom where there are often more than 50 children with only one teacher and maybe an assistant, where educators typically would typically not have any special education training or experience?  I did get a sense that those in the United States who are on the Autism spectrum who are born into wealthier better-educated families probably have better outcomes in life and greater possibilities; the discrepancy is even greater when we consider the situation from a global perspective.  I am grateful that I attended and learned a lot, grateful that I was able to spend time with a friend who was in town for the conference, and grateful that so much work is being done to improve the lives of those with Autism; may the work soon somehow also benefit those living in places like Haiti too.

Sometimes I think coming to Louisiana before I head north to Rhode Island makes a lot of sense.  There are commonalities between Louisiana and Haiti that are very different from New England (where my family lives.) The architecture in the French Quarter of New Orleans is remarkably similar to that of downtown Cap Haitian, for example.  Yesterday when I drove to the town of Opelousas to visit many of my Marianite sisters (it was great to see ya'll!), I passed sugar cane fields.  Louisiana and Haiti are the only two places I know of that eat mirliton/militon (a vegetable)  and call it that.  Of course too, there are banana trees and hibiscus flowers.  So while at times I feel like when I am in Haiti I am in a different reality, there are similarities too.  The similarities often make me smile; like this little lizard who greeted me in the backyard today.

      

     

This side of the water, but the other side of the river

In Haiti the US is sometimes referred to as " lòt bò," or "lòt bò dlo" which means the "other side,"or the "other side of the water."  In New Orleans people talk about which side of the Mississippi River they are on, the East Bank or the West Bank, but simply when you are on one bank, you can refer to the other as "the other side of the river."

So, on Thursday night I arrived here on other side of the water, where I am staying on  the other side of the river  (in relation to where I have previously lived in New Orleans.) I am happy to be on this side of the water for a little while, and I am feeling very welcomed by the sisters in this lovely house on this side of the river. During my first few days here there were moments when I was surprised by what was once ordinary.   For example, I thought, "Wow!  We have a dishwasher (machine)!"   I have to remind myself of silly things like it is okay to flush toilet paper down the toilets because the sewer system can handle it.  Suddenly I am once again capable of cooking and driving (but of course not at the same time.)  Also, it is not necessary to turn the plates upside down with the silverware beneath them when setting the table because there are rarely any flies in the house and virtually no dust coming in since the windows are completely sealed shut and there is less dust in general since the roads are all paved.  Actually, I am impressed by the quality of the roads, even though others here are complaining about them.  The next person who complains about the conditions of the roads in New Orleans should travel with me the next time I go to Pilat.   By the way, Pilat in relation to Cap Haitian is on the other side of  seven rivers, none of which have bridges.  In recent days, each time I traveled  from one side of the river to other, I felt grateful for the beautiful bridges that span the Mississippi River, something I had previously always taken for  granted.   It is great to be able to get to the other side of the river while staying on this one during my time on this side of the water.


Wherever you are, (on which ever side of whatever body of water,) I hope that you are enjoying the summer. Take care.  Many blessings!

Funerals

During my first experience in Haiti, funerals occurred nearly daily during our morning liturgy at the little chapel on the grounds of St. Damien Hospital.  Despite the reality that I have attended so many Haitian funerals, and witnessed many grieving families, I still find funerals here to be quite difficult, (not that funerals anywhere are ever easy; they're not.)

The mother of one of the Holy Cross postulants, died a couple of weeks ago.  Fortunately the postulant was on vacation and with her mom at the time.  Last Thursday was the funeral.  A pickup truck and a jeep both filled with  sisters set out early in the morning, we could not take the minibus because the condition of the roads.  Shortly before we arrived we pulled over on the side of the unpaved road put the food we had brought with us on the open tailgate of pickup and ate our main meal (does this qualify as a tailgating party?)

We arrived at the family's yard a few hours before the funeral would start so that we could be present to the family.  We greeted everyone and expressed our condolences.  The postulant seemed so sad.  My heart was filled with compassion for her. She is only in her early twenties and is already parent less.   We sat on  chairs in the yard between two very simple cement homes on either end a cinder block wall on one side and a fence consisting mostly of corrugated metal on the other.  At times people were silent, at other times family members of the deceased wept, or called out loudly expressing their grief.  Someone fainted.

When it was a few minutes past the hour the funeral was scheduled to begin we boarded our vehicles allowing relatives to ride in the back of the truck.

The funeral was held at what appeared to be a community center, not a church.  When we entered the building I heard a lot of noise.  The coffin was still open for viewing and there were people crowded around it.  There was a lot of loud crying and yelling.  People close to the deceased were expressing their grief with their whole bodies.  I sat in the back row, but only for a  couple of my minutes because I decided to move after a bereft young man unintentionally hit the back of the metal folding chair causing it to move an inch or so.  The preacher tried to encourage everyone to quiet down and be still so that the service could start.  There was a program on paper, an itinerary which included two songs that the Sisters of Holy Cross were going to sing, but the presider never called upon them so they did not sing.  The postulant at some point went to the front and spoke lovingly of her mother, I heard a little of what was said after I explained  to the screaming woman next to me that I had come for the postulant but that I could not hear her because of the screams.  When the preacher spoke I decided to make a concerted effort to listen thinking this might be preferable.  I could only hear for a few minutes during a lull  but was equally uncomfortable hearing about Satan, the devil, and judgment.  I thought if someone were to preach this homily at the funeral of a very close family member of mine I would not be consoled and maybe I'd feel like screaming too.

The cultural differences in how some of people express their grief here do in all honesty cause me to feel somewhat uncomfortable at times even while I respect that this is simply a cultural difference and I at some level do appreciate that.  There may be advantages to expressing one's grief in this way; I have no right or reason to judge it.

There is another major reason why funerals here cause me even greater discomfort.  I can not help but wonder if the deceased would have died if the person had access to the kind of health care and other privileges I have access to.  I have no major health problems and consider myself to be in relatively good shape however during the next several weeks while in the US I have routine checkups scheduled with my primary care physician, gynecologist, and dermatologist as well as my yearly dental appointment.  Preventive care is not something the average person in Haiti has access to.  It is well documented that poverty with all its stressors places people at greater risk for many  health problems, the very people who have the fewest resources to resolve them.    This should probably should cause us all  some discomfort.

On Saturday morning I boarded a bus to PortauPrince and spent the weekend visiting children and workers at Kay St. Anne and other friends at NPH.    Most of the children who I knew five years ago are no longer there, some have been reunited with relatives and others now reside at the large orphanage in Kenscoff.  I was happy to see three of the children who have disabilities who were at St. Anne when I worked there. It brings me great joy to see two boys who did not walk independently when I was there who can run and dance now.  I enjoyed chatting with a coupled of employees.  The volunteers now live in what is called, "the villas";this is where I stayed.  In many ways it is more comfortable than the tents and prefabricated housing of the post-earthquake volunteer era.  The international flavor still exists.  There was a large group of  short-term Italian volunteers, they were so generous that they included everyone staying there to eat the authentic eggplant Parmesan they prepared for a late Saturday night supper.  The volunteer I stayed with who I did not know happens to live in New Orleans, we plan to meet for coffee (or tea) in a couple of weeks.

After visiting the children on Sunday morning I went out to lunch with two friends, one an American sister, the other a woman close to my own age from Ireland, and we met another American woman who I had not previously known. It was wonderful to visit with them.  We even swam in the hotel pool.  That evening there was liturgy in the hospital chapel.   The mass flowed between English and Creole with some songs in Italian and French.

On Monday morning I attended the liturgy there as well. Before it began I stood for a moment on the side of the chapel, in front of the simple wooden cross that marks the spot where little Katiana is buried, sadly recalling the most difficult Haitian funeral that I personally have experienced.  When I entered the chapel there were three small coffins on the floor containing the bodies of children and babies who died at the pediatric hospital over the weekend.




I returned to Cap-Haitian yesterday.  By the end of the week I will be in New Orleans.  I look forward to seeing many of you soon.  Take care.  Many blessings!

Beauty on Barbed Wire and Broken-Winged Butterfly

  It is especially strange to be here at the orphanage while the children are away. I miss them.  

While the grounds are quieter than normal and my schedule less full, and with no classes, appointments or group therapy sessions over the weekend, I have had some time to reflect, read, write, pray and of course wander the grounds with my camera in hand. 

The orphanage like many homes and business in Haiti is surrounded by tall cinder block walls topped with broken glass and barbed wire.  While ugly, they are practical, used to prevent people who might commit crimes from entering.  While taking pictures recently, I was especially struck by the contrast of the barbed wire, broken glass and tall cinder block walls, and the abundance of life that sometimes surrounds them.  I call these four photos: 

Beauty on Barbed Wire.         

     

 I enjoy the challenge of trying to snap a good bird or butterfly picture before it flies away.  While chasing butterflies in the currently childless orphanage playground I encoutnered this one .  While I took many pictures of butterflies that would by most conventional standards be considered more beautiful, this is the butterfly that spoke most strongly to me.  I was compelled to respond.  

Broken Winged Butterfly

The flutter of your injured wings whispers words of wisdom,

Both broken and beautiful

 Tattered and Talented

Easily labeled disabled and dysfunctional

yet, you are so capable  

you fly!  

Others appear perfect in thier seemingly effortless grace

though they've not a shadow of your strength,

(Or perhaps they're equally broken, hindered by hidden hurts

always unknown to the onlooker.)

Broken Winged Butterfly, 

When I saw your tattered wings

then watched you fly, 

my heart flew too.             

I am continuing to teach English this week.  Things are going well for me and hopefully for you too.  Many blessings!   

 

Summer English Class

A couple of the employees at the orphanage had asked that their children come to the English class which I had been teaching to the Holy Cross men`s novices and  a few others each Thursday morning.  They wanted their teenage children to miss school each Thursday and come to my class instead.  As a former teacher and someone who often had perfect or nearly perfect attendance when I was in school, I  was not at all comfortable with that idea.  I said I would try to offer a class when school was finished but before I left the country for vacation.  Each day this week and next I am teaching English to a five children of employees and a young adult who grew up at the orphanage.  I am enjoying it and they seem to be too.  More importantly hopefully, they are learning.

Since the postulants are on vacation and several sisters are leaving for chapter meetings in Canada, it was decided to temporarlily close the convent where I live.  This allows employees to have vacation time and saves energy.  Four of us who are not away are staying at the orphanage convent where I lived last year.  It is rather quiet on the orphanage grounds these days, since the children are away.

I was planning to include some pictures, but due to technical difficulties they are simply not uploading in a reasonable amount of time (and then some.)  I am satisfied that I finally figured out how to get the spell check to work in English.  My laptop is not working so, while this is one of my briefier and more boring  updates it actually required more effort than one with normally functioning techology, reliable electricty and decent internt connections would likely imagine.     

Have a great week!  Many blessings!    

Teacher Training, Funeral, and Farewells

The first time I was in Pilat, after struggling to explain in Creole the Flight, Fight and Freeze responses (to traumatic events,) I emailed the professor who taught me Creole in Miami in 2010.  While helping to provide me with the words I needed to educate parents about their children's response to violence, he also expressed an interest in the school in Pilat.  I simply asked the sister who directs the school if she would like me to put her in contact with him.  When she agreed I wrote a simple email introducing them to one another.

Last week Mr. Jacques Pierre, (who is now a lecturer at Duke University,) came to Pilat to provide training for the teachers at the sisters' school in Pilat. It was a privileged to accompany him to Pilat and to be of assistance during the week.  The education system here in Haiti is quite out-dated.  Most children are expected to learn through rote memorization in French.  Here is an article that was coincidentally published last week that explains the situation and the exact issues Jacques addressed during the seminar.  It was so timely that we shared the article with the teachers.      http://blogs.worldbank.org/education/why-school-enrollment-not-enough-look-inside-haiti-s-classrooms

The teachers appeared to be open to the ideas that were presented in the seminar.  Some of the topics included having the children work in groups, encouraging discussions in class, methods for teaching language, assigning projects, encouraging creativity and culture. Embracing teaching methods that are radically different from the traditional methods the teachers have been familiar with their entire lives will require a true transformation for many teachers.  The training gave me a sense of hope because even small steps towards changing how school is taught can potentially have major positive ramifications for the students, the country and ultimately (since we are all interdependent) the world.    

Although the school year had ended the week before, on Friday afternoon the preschool children came for an end of the school year celebration.  It was wonderful not only to see them, but to play and dance with them too.    

I did not see the lizard's head when I initially took this picture!    

An egret in the rain in Pilat  

Funeral
On Tuesday the funeral was held for the orphanage mother who died. The orphanage rented a school bus so that all of the workers, some former residents and all of the older children could attend.  The large church in the worker's  hometown was filled with people.  One of the oldest children and the sister who directs the orphanage spoke towards the end of the mass.  Since the mother had no biological children of her own, people commented that she was mother to so many children whose own mothers had died.  Following the liturgy we all walked in procession to the cemetery.  People wept and wailed as we walked.  It seems to me that funerals are a place where emotions are allowed to be released in this culture.  I felt as though I were surrounded by grief and emotional pain.  When we arrived at the cemetery a sister handed me one of the flower arrangements that had been on the roof of the Hurst that led the procession.  Following others who also had flowers I entered the cemetery.  Once the casket was placed into the cement tomb we handed the bouquets to men who placed them on top of the tomb.  The cemetery was somewhat unkempt; I actually believe that I saw a couple of human bones on the ground.  Following the burial we had a pleasant gathering at the orphanage for the children, workers, sisters, and former residents of the orphanage.  It was a wonderful tribute to the life of a hardworking and caring woman.

Farewell
Most of the children left for summer vacation yesterday.  As is often the case, the good-byes were bittersweet.  It was strangely quiet at the orphanage today. I already miss the children.

Many blessings!  

Turkeys, a Duckling and Nesting Egrets

On Mother's Day in Haiti, I distinctly remember wishing one of the manmans, (one of the women who works directly with the children at the orphanage) a Happy Mother's Day.  She smiled as I kissed her on the cheek as people do in this culture.  A group of turkeys that live in the orphanage yard came near.  I commented that they came to wish her "Bon fèt manman" too.  She then proceeded to tell me a story; something she had just witnessed.  She said that a chicken was starting to fight with one of the baby turkeys.  All of the other turkeys in the yard came to help the little turkey and the chicken ran off.  She commented about how animals (in this case turkeys) can work together but that people don't.

The following day was my last weekly meeting with the workers.  At the end of the meeting as a small gift for attending, I gave each a blank card with a different photograph on the front.  This particular mother received the card with this picture.

She was delighted!  She showed the other workers the duckling, and they playfully teased that they wanted her card, but she refused to trade.  When all of the other workers had walked away and I  was headed towards the therapy room doorway, smiling, she approached me, gave me a kiss on the cheek and thanked me.

Two days later, a worker came to me explaining that this particular mother was sick. The other sisters were in a meeting and the employees did not want to disturb them.  I immediately went to see the sick worker.  She was sitting on the side of a bed, sweating profusely and she looked like she was dizzy.  I spoke with her briefly.  When I inquired as to whether or not she was in pain she pointed to her chest and her back.  Quickly I ran to inform the sisters that I think this mother needs to go to the hospital.  They went to see her and called the orphanage driver to transport her to the hospital.  I took the two children who were too young to be at school but were not napping at that time to the swing set so that they would not witness people helping the ill worker down the stairs, out of the house and into the truck.

The following day we were told that she was still at the hospital but that she was getting better.  On Friday during the noon time meal, there was no new news when I asked the sisters about her status.  She died late Friday night.

Please keep her family, the children and all of the workers in your prayers at this time.


Next week I will write about my current (and so far very good) experience in Pilat.

Here are some pictures of egrets nesting in the large tree in the middle of the school yard in Pilat.  I am amazed at the number of nests in a single tree (I can't seem to get a picture that accurately portrays this.)  

This week I have again been reminded of the fragility of life and not to take the presence of another for granted.  I am grateful for my communities (current and former) family, and friends.  Thank you for reading my blog; this week writing it was therapeutic for me.    Take care.  Many blessings!

A Trip to the Bank and General Updates

Bank  

Today the line at the bank was quite long.   There had been a lot of traffic getting into the city and the convent driver who was waiting for me had to pick up another sister in less than an hour after our arrival.  I decided to wait in line and get a sense of how quickly it was moving.  It was not moving very quickly, but I figured I would wait a while and if it seemed it would take too long, I would get out of line and try again in a few weeks; I only decided to change some American money into gourdes today because eventually I will need to and the driver was available and it is Tuesday (my day off.)  A uniformed security guard carrying a very large gun got my attention and pointed me towards a very short line.  I pointed to the end of that line and asked if he wanted me to go to that line; he nodded in agreement and automatically I obeyed his gesture and went in the short line.  While I don't really read French, I am almost certain the sign indicated that the short line was for, pregnant women, elderly people, and people with physical disabilities.  I don't fit into any of those categories, nor do I think I appear to.  I felt quite ambivalent.  On one hand, I was relieved that I would have time to change my money before the driver had to retrieve another sister, I also felt quite uncomfortable, and embarrassed.  

Why had I been directed to the shorter line?  Perhaps the security guard saw that the driver was waiting in the hot pick-up truck as the sun was beating down upon it and had compassion for him, but I sincerely doubt that was his reason, even if that was how at the moment in my own mind I justified obeying the guard.  Perhaps from the Marianite crucifix around my neck, he knew that I am a religious and did not think that "sister" should need to wait in the long line like all of the people who are not members of religious congregations .  While there are situations in which religious are given preferential treatment, (which I find quite annoying) I am skeptical that this was the probable cause, in part because I was wearing capris, not even a skirt or dress and certainly nothing resembling a traditional habit.   

Perhaps the security guard was just being kind to an obvious foreigner, and most certainly he meant well, but it did not seem fair to all those who were waiting, who had arrived before me.  Ideally, I should have refused, saying that I could wait in the long line like all of the other people who are neither pregnant, elderly nor physically disabled.  While I don't really know the security guard's motivation, during the few minutes, I stood in the short line, the words "white privilege" bubbled up from my gut to my head. Even here in a country, where there are few white people, there are times when I believe I am treated better than most native people by other native people simply because of the color of my skin.

I considered writing about this, but felt a bit uncomfortable so I decided not to, then a short time later while trying to catch up on the news today, I read the following article and http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2016/05/31/479733094/the-code-switch-podcast-episode-1-can-we-talk-about-whiteness  concluded that maybe the Holy Spirit was prompting me to write about my experience in the bank, and to acknowledge the uncomfortable truth that the color of my skin does come with privileges both in Haiti and in the US and in many, perhaps even most places.  Certainly I have not earned this nor is it deserved, nor am I proud that I stayed in the short line.          

I have probably only gone to the bank on three or four occasions to exchange money during the many months that I have lived in Okap, and each of those times, I have received more gourd per dollar than the previous time.   In a sense, this too would seem to benefit me personally, after all, it still only costs five gourds to take the tap-tap from downtown to the intersection closest to the convent and orphanage. In reality, though, this saddens me, because the currency's declining value is a sure sign of Haiti's current economic problems and  it is very bad for the people, no doubt especially for those who have the least to begin with and many prices have risen as a result.

So thanks to a trip to the bank, I am grappling with the reality of my privilege and that being white and an American comes with undeserved benefits.  I believe that what seems to benefit me personally if unjust towards another, if it is not really in the best interest of the common good, then ultimately it does not benefit me, because we, all people, and all of creation, are in this together.  Hopefully, with God's help, I will do my best to use my advantages to benefit those who are least privileged and to find ways to advocate for justice and equality.  Will I have the courage to defy the security guard and the next time I am in the bank should I be faced with the same scenario?    

General Updates

The Sisters of Holy Cross had a regional meeting this weekend.  On Saturday evening after work, I attended mass with them and visited during their evening meal.  It is always good to connect and catch up with sisters I don't see often.
 
 Sunday was  Mother's Day here in Haiti.  There was a short gathering in which the children sang, danced and told jokes, to honor the "mothers" who do most of the direct work with the children at the orphanage.  They are caring hard working women; hopefully, they know that they are appreciated.  A few children came up to me that day, kissed my cheek and wished me, "bon fèt manman!"  I was very touched.  The day was also a difficult one for some of the children who were reminded that their own mothers have died.  

Things are winding down as the school year will be coming to an end next week.  On Sunday I did my last group sessions with the older children and yesterday was my last weekly meeting with the caregivers of the children.  Next week, I am heading back to Pilat and early the following week the children will leave to spend summer with relatives.  

I hope that you are all well.  Thanks for taking time to read this.
Have a good week.  Many blessings!


              

Crossing the River

The remainder of the week in Pilat went well.  On Wednesday morning, there was a special mass which many school children attended for Fèt Drapo (Flag Day.)  I spent much of that afternoon working with a dedicated group of ninth graders who came to school on their day off to prepare for exams; I was assisting with English (the only subject I am qualified to help with especially considering their exams are in French.)  On Thursday and Friday after school, we continued the work.

It was enjoyable to spend time with the preschool children and their teachers.  I did some short psycho-educational lessons, talked with the teachers, read to the children and organized some play time.  Most had never used playdough before and they seemed to enjoy it.

The river 

Late on Friday afternoon, I accompanied a Haitian sister to visit a family.  We had to cross a river to get to the family's home; we were on foot and there was no bridge.  Hand in hand we waded through the rocky shallow river .  When we arrived at the other side of the river, we put our shoes back on and walked up a mountain until we arrived at the simple home of a large family.  They were happy to see the sister and welcomed me, even though I was a stranger.  An American sister who is not currently in Haiti had assisted them with obtaining funds to build their house, so it seemed their gratitude may have extended to me although I had nothing to do with it, or maybe they warmly welcome all people. They invited us in and asked me specifically to pray, to bless the house.  Though surprised that they wanted me to pray, I was deeply touched by their faith and how openly they expressed it.  So I prayed with them and for them and they seemed satisfied with my spontaneous Creole prayer.  They showed us their garden; that is how they sustain themselves.  They wanted to give me the plantains that were growing on a tree behind their home, but the sister convinced them that they were not ready to be picked.  They gave her some fresh corn; we waited while the father of the family went to harvest it for us. The sister did not take all that they offered us, perhaps aware that they needed it more than we did but not wanting to insult them by refusing the gift.  Grateful for having met such kind, generous and faithful people, we headed back down the mountain and across the river.

The plantains 

On Saturday morning, I returned to Okap, and went to the orphanage that afternoon, happy to see the children there.

Have a good week.  Take care.  Many blessings!        

Partying in Pilat

The first time I came to Pilat, I described the road leading to the town as being like a dry rocky river bed.  When I made the journey on Sunday afternoon, the road was not dry. The driver and I were grateful that the rain was light so that we were able to pass without difficulty.  If the rivers we need to cross to get here are too swollen vehicles can not pass; a few weeks ago some sisters who had planned to come to Pilat for the funeral of a sister’s mother, had to turn back.

During my previous visit in March, I had told the professors and the sister who is the director of the school that I would try to come back before school ended to follow up with the preschool children and their teachers (links to previous Pilate entires  March 19, 2016  and Pictures Pilat previous visit.)  When this week was chosen, I had not realized that there would be so many other things going on; had I known I might have chosen a different week, so that I would could have had more time with the children, but feel that I am supposed to be here at this moment, although I am not sure and may never know the exact reason.    

It was wonderful to see the children yesterday.  Their smiles alone make the trip worthwhile.  They remembered me and of course, even more so they remembered Ti tòti, the turtle puppet I use for pyscho-educational lessons with preschool age children.  

I am grateful that I was here to celebrate the birthday of the sister who directs the school.  Yesterday morning the entire school surprised her with a party that included song, dance, and popcorn.  The teachers had a party for her during the children’s recess time too.  The cake was delicious!   The Holy Cross sisters who work at the hospital in Pilat and the Holy Cross priests who work in the parish came here to the school convent yesterday evening; we had mass followed by another enjoyable birthday party.

     

Today is teacher appreciation day here in Haiti.  The children did not come to school because we had a party for the teachers that lasted all day.  The teachers here work very hard and I was happy to see them enjoying themselves. It was nice to begin to get acquainted with them; during my previous visit I really only had contact with the preschool professors.  Some of the older students came to help us with the party; they prepared a prayer this morning and served the noon time meal. Following the prayer, a couple of teachers shared about their experiences working at the school.  I set up and helped to serve the snacks this morning, coordinated musical chairs, and helped with various aspects of the party. I was actually quite busy and am grateful that I was able to be of assistance and hopefully help the teachers know that they are appreciated.     

           

Tomorrow is Fèt Drapo, Flag Day, here in Haiti.  Yes, another fèt!  In life, there is always something to celebrate.  The school is closed, but several older students will come in the afternoon and I will help them prepare for an English exam.  I’ll have Thursday and Friday to work with the preschool children and their teachers, Si Dye vle (If God wants!)  

  

Even if you have not attended as many parties as I have recently, I do hope that you are finding reasons to celebrate.  Many blessings!